Take Care
by harleyquinn990
Summary: Clint returns home sick with a fever. Good thing Bruce is always there to take care of him. Hulkeye Clint/Bruce


Clint all but collapsed onto his and Bruce's bed. Is mission went OK, it would have gone perfect if he didn't get sick halfway through. His breathe came out like pants, sweat made his uniform cling to his skin. He attempted to hold back a cough but failed miserably. He hoped someone told Bruce he was back.

Bruce entered the tower, instantly approached by Tony. "Hey, Banner, Clint's back. Not looking too good either. I mean, he looks sick." Bruce instantly went up to their room, entering the room and dropping his bag at the door. "Babe.." He gently lifted him up, feeling his head. "C'mon, we gotta lay you down.."

"Ugh." Was Clint's only response as he pressed his forehead into the cool hand. "Missed you." He mumbled, eyes closed as he snuggled his head into Bruce's lap. He coughed violently into the scientist, stirring up some congestion, making it hard to breathe.

"I missed you too." Bruce said gently, "I have some medicine that'll stop your coughs." He slid out from under Clint's head, slowly setting it down on the bed, then grabbing his bag and bringing it over to the bed. He pulled out two pills and a water bottle, sitting Clint up and handing them to him. "Here, take these, they'll work. It'll take about 15 minutes though.."

"Hooray." Clint mocked, his voice coming out more hoarse than he was expecting. "Maybe I won't burn to death in that time." Clint head rolled to the side, sweat glistening on his face a neck. "Is it always this hot in our room?"

"Clint.. our room is the coldest in the Tower.. Tony thinks we keep penguins in here." Bruce pressed his lips together, slowly reaching out and resting a hand on Clint's cheek. "I promise, you'll be ok when the medicine kicks in."

Clint gently pushed Bruce away. "You'll get sick...Not that I don't appreciate the attention." He smiled at the brunette. "And who knows, maybe I'm breeding Hulkified Hawks in the closet and they need to be kept cold."

"I don't get sick. I never told you that?" Bruce chuckled lightly, looking to their closet. "I don't even think that's possible... they'd have to be green hawks and transform and that's crazy." He smiled, looking back to Clint.

He returned the gesture, a goofy smile plastered on the blonde's face. "Hey, I am amazing, I can make green hawks if I want to." He shifted on the bed, still in his field uniform. It was good for protection and movement, not the best sleepwear. "Can you help me outta this thing?"

"I know you are." He continued to smile at Clint, then nodded. "Sure." He moved to where he was close enough, then started unzipping all the zippers, since he knew where they were from... past events.

Clint sighed in relief when his uniform was off, his cargo pants replaced for thin pajama pants, his bullet proof vest traded in for a light, loose purple T shirt. He lied back down on the bed, eyelids getting heavy. His stomach twisted slightly and he started to feel nauseous. He practically fell out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Clint tried to ignore the pain when his knees hit the floor in front of the toilet.

Bruce frowned as Clint ran into the bathroom. He wondered just what the hell had gotten him so sick. He was fine when he left and now... he was just sick. He slowly got up, going into the bathroom and kneeling beside Clint, some distance in between them. There really wasn't much he could do until wait for Clint to stop vomiting and be able to explain what the effects were that sickness was causing him.

Clint heaved heavy breathes as the sickness stop coming. He rested his head on the seat and looked up at Bruce. "Everything will be fine, he said. Just lay down he said. Don't worry you're not dying, he said." He mocked. More vomit erupted from his mouth. "Oh, there it goes. Everything I have ever ate in my entire life."

"I don't think you're dying, Clint... When did you start feeling sick?" Bruce asked, doctor instincts beginning to kick in, like they always did when one of the team members were sick.

"Ugh, I don't know. A few days ago? I tried to ignore it. Still had the target to take out." He reached up and flushed the sick down the toilet. He sat up, only to fall back into Bruce's lap.

He sighed, running his fingers comfortingly through Clint's hair. "You should've told the medic or something..." He murmured, rubbing his back. "It's most likely just a fever.."

"I don't like the other doctors... They make me stay in bed in for the whole recovery period." He closed his eyes again. Suddenly feeling exhausted. "Was there NyQuil in that medicine?" He asked the doctor.

"Yep.. goodnight Clint." He smiled, leaning down and kissing the archer's ear gently. He knew Clint wouldn't be able to stay awake, since there was a double dose of NyQuil. Nothing harmful, just so Clint would sleep this bug off. It was better to be asleep then awake.

Clint attempted to keep his eyes open, but the blonde was fading fast. "You know...I hate...drug induced... slee-." He quickly fell asleep before he could finish. Clint was always used to be aware of his surroundings, it took a lot of trust for the archer to fall asleep in front of anyone. As an assassin he was trained to always be aware.

"I know.. but you need it. Sleep well, I love you." Bruce whispered in his ear, picking him up bridal style and laying him on the bed. He pulled the covers over Clint, then got into his own sleepwear. He went to the other side of the bed, sliding in and lazily wrapping an arm around the archer's waist.

Sure, Clint was a pain sometimes. And sometimes not the most cooperative person towards most of SHIELD's doctors. But Bruce still loves him, and he guesses that that is why he is there. To take care of his Hawk.

* * *

Written with a fantastic partner over Omegle. I've wanted to write a sick fic for a while... so yeah. Here it is.

And I've lately been obsessed with Bruce/Clint fluff. I find myself shipping him with almost everyone. Clint you manwhore.


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